


if you're thinking you might be sinking

by QueensJenn



Category: Ylvis
Genre: And angsty, Christmas, Depression, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Violence, anger issues, bro feels, h/c, very dark, warning: dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-17
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:30:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueensJenn/pseuds/QueensJenn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's falling fast and he can't figure out why anyone is there to catch him</p><p>(<i>You don't deserve them</i>, he reminds himself. <i>They're better off without you</i>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. full of fire

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: dark, kinda fucked up. The interview referenced in this chapter is here:
> 
> http://www.730.no/filmitem.aspx?newsId=16452
> 
>  
> 
> Title and chapter titles are from Jess Chamber's "Full of Fire"

Vegard came storming into the office the next morning, clutching his phone in his hand so tightly his knuckles were white. He brushed past the other employees, who quietly put their heads down and pretended not to notice what’s happening.

Bård was working at his computer and jumped when his door was slammed open.

“What is this?” Vegard growled, throwing his phone down on Bård’s desk.

“A…a phone…?”

“Don’t be _cute_. What the _hell_ did you say about me?”

“I don’t —“

Vegard snatched the phone back and unlocked it. “ _Can you tell us a secret? That would make us very happy,”_ he read. 

Bård rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on -“

“ _Well I’m not sure, but I’ve heard rumours that Vegard likes ‘a pinky in the stinky.’_ ”

“Vegard, please, it was a joke —“

Vegard slammed the phone back down on the table. “How is it a _joke_? It’s disgusting and you have no right to say things like that about me!”

“No one’s going to believe it, and even if they did, who cares?”

“ _I CARE!_ I care! I don’t want people thinking like that about me!”

“No one is thinking like that about you. No one’s even going to remember it.”

“That’s not the _point_! Why would you even say something like that in the first place?”

Bård shrugged. “It’s funny. Why are you taking this so hard? It’s not even the worst thing that we’ve said or done. Why is this worse than talking about the grey hair around your nipples or when you ripped your pants in Kyrgizistan —“

“I had those scenes removed from the final version,” Vegard ground out. There was a buzzing in his limbs and it was hard to breathe. “Why don’t you _understand,_ Bård?”

His hands were shaking and there was a crowd at the door, but he didn’t - couldn’t - care about them.

“You don’t _think_! You don’t think about anyone but yourself, you just say whatever you want and call it a joke. It’s _not funny!_ You’re not funny! You’re a fucking piece of shit!”

“Vegard, stop.” Bård was using the quiet, firm voice and that might have worked on unruly interns or fans but it was the worst thing he could have done. 

“No I won’t stop! I’m sick of this! I’m sick of you! You always saying this shit about me and I’d never say anything like that about you! You piece of shit!”

In one fluid motion Vegard swept everything off the desk, then threw it to one side. Bård backed up nervously as Vegard advanced toward him, deadly precision in his movements. Somewhere in the corner of his mind he registered the look of fear in his brother’s eyes, but it was quickly buried in the swirling rage. _Good,_ came the dark thought from the back of his mind. _Let him be scared. Serves him right._

“Vegard, calm down, you’re overreacting, it was just a _joke_ —“

Sounds faded out to be replaced with a roaring, and suddenly he couldn’t see anymore, all he could see was red, red, and suddenly there was a stinging pain in his hand —

And then someone was grabbing him from behind and wrestling him down on the floor. Vegard blinked —

He was lying on his stomach on the office floor, with a heavy weight on his back and both arms twisted painfully behind him and held there with an iron grip. He could hear the quiet, shocked murmuring of the others, still gathered around the office door. 

And — oh God —

Bård was standing in front of him, eyes wide, blood trickling from his nose. He couldn’t remember doing it but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what happened.He’d hit him. _He’d hit him._  

He opened his mouth to say something but nothing would come out. The weight on his back was squeezing all the air out of his lungs, and what would he say anyway? What could he say to mitigate this?

Nothing. There was nothing he could say. It was over.

Calle appeared with a wet cloth and held it up to Bård’s face. The younger man had never taken his eyes off Vegard, blue eyes wide with shock and disgust.

“I think you should leave,” Calle said softly.

 _Don’t tell me what to do in my own office,_ Vegard thought weakly, but the words were gone before he could voice them. Of course he should leave. Everything was ruined. He’d hit Bård. He’d drawn blood. Everything was broken. He’d ruined everything.

“Calle —“ Bård began, but the older man shook his head. 

“Let me up,” Vegard said softly, his voice so soft he could barely recognize it. Then - “Let me up!”

Calle nodded to the person holding him down - it could only be Magnus, and that made the shame burn even stronger - and the weight off his back lifted. Magnus held his hands together at the wrists, but Vegard shrugged out of his grasp.

He turned away from the sight of his brother, bleeding by his own hand. Bad idea. He was faced with everyone standing in the doorway, silent in shock, and no one knew quite where to look.

“Out of the way,” Vegard mumbled, pushing through the throng. He took he stairs down to the parking lot, and did not look back.

~~~

His eyes burned. 

His eyes burned and his head hurt from lack of sleep, but every time he closed his eyes he saw Bård again, standing there, blood dripping down his face. 

He’d hit him. Over a stupid joke. One stupid sentence that didn’t matter and no one would remember anyway. 

 _You hit him._ The knowledge, the memory was relentless. 

His phone had been dark ever since It had happened. No one had called or texted, not even when he didn’t show up to the office the next day, or the day after. He didn’t ever plan to go back.

He didn’t think he’d ever gone so long without some kind of message, and he was so tired of looking at his phone.

_What do you expect? Why would they text you? They all hate you now. They all hope you’ll never come back. They’re better off without you._

Even Bård hadn’t contacted him, and he had the shame to be at least a little surprised about that. He’d never gone more than half a day without some sort of message from his brother, and it had been two-and-a-half days now.

_Why are you surprised? He hates you._

_There’s nothing you can do to make this up to him. There’s no apology good enough. You’ve ruined everything. It’s all over._

There were two bottles sitting on the coffee table in front of him. One, a dusty wine bottle, still festooned in bright red _Hilsen fra Se og Hør_ ribbons. A bitter reminder of all he’d had and lost.

The second - a small bottle of painkillers he’d been prescribed after pinching a nerve in his back. He’d never taken any; ostensibly because he’d never needed one, but maybe because he’d always known it would come down to this.

_You hit him. You threw away everything. You’re the older one. You’re the one who’s supposed to be able to let things go. You’ve ruined everything. When they all find out what you’ve done - Mama, Papa, Bjarte - they’ll all hate you too. They probably already do. They won’t be sad. They won’t care. No one will. No one does._

_You ruin everything you touch. You hurt everyone around you. This is for the best._

With shaking hands he uncorked the wine bottle and took a long swig. The alcohol burned all the way down his throat and into his stomach.

_Take another one. You’re finally doing something right._

~~~

Bård was restless. 

It was past one in the morning, but he couldn’t sleep. He wasn’t hungry, didn’t want to work, and nothing on the TV could hold his attention. He was just… _restless._

For what had to be the thousandth time since Vegard had run out of the office, he checked his phone. Still nothing. He’d been expecting it, but every time he saw the lack of ‘new message’ notifications, his heart sank. He’d never gone so long without texting his brother, and he knew he was being cowardly by waiting for him to text first. 

It’s just that…he didn’t know what to _say._ He never did. Vegard was always the one who had the right words to smooth everything over. Bård was just the shitty little brother who always did everything wrong. Why _had_ he said that line, anyway? He really had thought it was just funny at the time, but of course he should have remembered that Vegard doesn’t like jokes like that, and never had. And then Bård had gone and poked the hornet’s nest with an ill thought-out joke. 

 _Something is wrong_.Vegard had gotten angry at the office before; they were all used to his little outbursts and tantrums by now. But he’d never gone into… _hiding_ …before. It wasn’t like him. _Something is wrong._  

For a little while longer Bård tried to tell himself that he was being stupid, and he couldn’t go charging over to his brother’s house in the middle of the night just based on a gut feeling. But as another hour passed and there was still no message, he couldn’t contain his fear anymore. 

He kept telling himself he was being stupid on the short drive over, and as he dug his spare key out of his pocket, but it was too late, he didn’t believe himself anymore. And as he pushed open the door, he was faced with the nauseating, split-second realization of _I was right_. 

“ _Vegard!”_ The scream was out of him before he could even process the sight, and he was on his knees beside the couch, shaking his brother’s shoulders. There was no response, but his skin was warm, and he was breathing. Bård clenched his fists, fought to control the bile that rose up in his throat, and forced himself to calm down and look around. 

There were two bottles on the table. The wine bottle was open and empty. Hands shaking, he opened the bottle of painkillers and counted them.

All there. None missing. He thought he might faint with relief.

“Wake up,” he said, shaking Vegard’s shoulder again. “Wake the fuck up!” 

Still there was no response. The sick fear that had abated at finding the pill bottle unopened began to creep back. _It’s an entire bottle of wine and he’s not used to drinking…_

“Vegard, _please…_ ” His voice cracked.

Very slowly, Vegard blinked open his eyes. 

“Bård.”

“What the hell were you doing?!”

He blinked again, then let his eyes shut. “I don’t know.”

 _Why?_ Bård almost asked, but the word caught in his throat. Asking that would acknowledge it. Asking that would make it too real. 

“Why are you here?” Vegard asked without opening his eyes.

“To stop you from being a goddam idiot! Seriously, Vegard, what the hell?” His voice cracked again on the last word and he looked away, blinking furiously. He dashed away one tear from the corner of his eye, and then another, until he couldn’t keep up with them, and all he could think about was _what if I’d gotten here a little later_?

And with that thought, he threw his arms around his brother’s chest and gave in to the tears building up behind his eyes. 

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered. “Not like this.”

After a few seconds, he became aware of Vegard’s hand on his shoulder, warm and heavy and comforting. He looked up. Vegard was looking at him, an expression of pure confusion in his eyes.

“What?” Bård asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Why are you sad?” he whispered. “You must hate me.”

“I don’t fucking _hate_ you!” Bård almost shouted, then lowered his volume as Vegard winced. “I don’t hate you! Is that what you think?”

“You must, though…you and everyone else at the office. Calle and Magnus…”

“Everyone has been asking for you. Asking if you’re all right.”

“I don’t know why they’d ever want me to come back.”

“Because…” Bård started, then shook his head. Trying to reason with Vegard when he was drunk and like this was like trying to reason with a two year old. “They just do, okay? Everyone wants you back.”

“Why, though? You have to hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” Bård laid his head down on his chest again. “I don’t hate you.”

“But I _hit_ you!”

Bård raised his head again. “Yes, you did. And that will _never_ happen again. Understand?”

Vegard nodded.

“But,” Bård continued, “I was shitty to you too, with that joke. No pun intended. So…I owe you an apology too. I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“I know.” _God, how could I not?_ “So…are we good? Are you…okay now?”

Vegard nodded again, eyes closing. 

 _No you’re not,_ Bård thought, but he was at a loss of what to do. This was so big, so far beyond his scope of experience that he didn’t even know where to start. So he shifted his weight until he was lying on top of Vegard and wrapped his arms around him, as though his physical weight could keep him here. Maybe, just for now, that would be enough.

 


	2. hold on to me

Bård came bounding into the office on December 1st with a box of decorations in his hand and a strand of lights wrapped around his shoulders.

“It’s Christmas! Everyone get out here and help me!” he crowed, setting the box down on the central coffee table. At once, everyone began pouring out of their offices and into the main space, which allowed Vegard to slip in unnoticed. 

Through the glass wall he watched as the others helped Bård detangle the strings of lights and hang them around the ceiling. In other years he would have been out there helping them, but now he couldn’t even think of it. No one had even noticed he was back, which had been the plan all along, but it couldn’t quench the guilt at sitting in here and not even helping his little brother celebrate his favourite holiday.

_You ruin everything. It’s better this way._

He was aware of the others peering into his office throughout the day, but he ignored them. What could he say, anyway? What could he say that would make anything better? They were afraid of him now, probably. They’d seen what an awful person he was. Nothing could make this better.

Bård had said that everyone wanted him to come back, that they were worried about him. 

_He was lying. He was just lying to make you feel better. No one wants you back. Everyone wants you gone._

He kept his head down and resolved to just stay out of everyone’s way. 

~~~

December passed. Vegard was _aware_ of it passing, as each day there was a new decoration up in the office, and every so often a card was slipped under his door when he came in in the morning. He collected them up and displayed them on his desk, but the words inside were hollow.

 _They don’t mean it. They’re only saying that because it’s Christmas and they have to._  

Dutifully, he wrote them back. 

He didn’t expect the invitation to go home for Christmas. After everything that had happened, he’d been fully prepared to spend Christmas alone. 

 _It’s all you deserve, after all you’ve done._  

He was half-tempted to decline. _Don’t inflict yourself on others_. But Bård’s look of disappointment as he started to say no changed his mind. 

_You’ve ruined enough. Don’t ruin this as well. You can be less selfish for once._

So he accepted. He called his mother and told her he would be delighted to come home to Bergen for Christmas. Forced himself to keep his voice light and a smile on his face as he talked.

“Are you all right?” his mother asked softly, after a few minutes of conversation.

“Of course,” he replied, feeling his insides go cold. _Don’t ruin this. Don’t bring everyone down._ “Why wouldn’t I be? Don’t you think I want to come home?”

“You don’t have to get defensive,” she said. 

He hung up the phone. _You’re ruining everything._

~~~

December passed. Bård continued to bounce around the office, even as fewer people showed up each day as everyone started their holidays. Vegard forced himself to join in when everyone was looking at him, just waiting for him to bring them down with his presence. 

The days grew shorter, and before he knew it or was ready, it was December 23rd and he was seated beside Bård on a plane bound for Bergen. 

“So…” Bård began awkwardly, and Vegard tensed. “You…ready for Christmas?”

“Of course,” he said. “I finished shopping weeks ago.” 

Bård nodded, and Vegard got the impression that that hadn’t been what he’d been asking at all.

~~~

They landed in Bergen, and were met by their parents for the drive home. Vegard forced himself to keep up with the mindless, happy chatter, acutely aware that he was being scrutinized. 

_Don’t ruin it. Don’t ruin Christmas for them._

The admonition rattled around in his mind until it almost seemed like the words stopped making sense. He knew he was falling quiet too often, but Bård filled in the gaps and talked enough for the both of them, and somehow, he made it home unscathed.

The house was decorated for Christmas and their mother reminded them that their relations would be arriving the next night,but Vegard was able to escape upstairs without too many excuses. He slipped into his childhood bedroom, and laid down on the bed. Downstairs he could hear his mother heating up milk for hot chocolate, but the energy needed to go down there and once again try to join in the festivities was more than he had. 

_It’s better this way. Don’t inflict yourself on them. They’re better off without you._

He closed his eyes, trying to drown out his thoughts. It was true, but it didn’t make it any easier. 

The next thing he knew, someone was knocking quietly on the door, and before he could react, Bård entered.

“Sorry,” he said quickly. “Shit, did I wake you?”

“Uh…no,” Vegard lied, rubbing his eyes. “I…uh…I was just…unpacking. And I laid down for a second.” Had he been asleep?

“You’ve been up here for like two hours,” Bård said. He tentatively came further into the room, and when Vegard didn’t tell him to get lost, took a seat at the desk. 

“Look, I didn’t tell Mama or Papa what happened,” he started. 

“That’s generous of you.”

“Hardly. Mama already chewed me out for that interview. She thinks I’m too vulgar.”

“She’s right.”

Bård snorted. “Yeah, yeah…but listen.” And suddenly he was too earnest and Vegard had a bad feeling. “Come downstairs for awhile. There’s cookies!”

Vegard swallowed and looked away. _Don’t inflict yourself on them._ “I don’t…I’m kind of tired…”

“Vegard, please…you can’t hide up here forever. There’s no reason for you to hide. Everyone misses you. Mama’s been asking where the hell you went ever since we got home.”

 _You’re worrying them. You’re upsetting them. Don’t ruin everything._  

“Okay,” he said simply, forcing a smile onto his face. “I’m not hiding, I just came up here to put my bag away and then I fell asleep. Really.”

Bård didn’t say anything, but the look on his face made it clear that he didn’t believe a word Vegard was saying. Vegard ignored him and went down the stairs.

_Happy. You’re happy. Don’t ruin Christmas._

As soon as he stepped off the stairs he was enveloped in a hug from his mother.

“I’ve missed you!” she crowed. “Come, come, sit down, have some cookies. You must be starving. You look tired, are you getting enough sleep?”

“I’m…I’m fine, Mama,” he said. 

“Sit down.”

A feeling of dread came over him as he looked around the table. His father and Bård were already seated, looking at him expectantly. Whatever was happening, it wouldn’t be good. “I’m…I don’t…”

“Sit down,” she repeated, and it wasn’t a request. He sat. 

“Bård said that there’s been some problems,” she began. From the corner of his eye, Vegard could see Bård’s face change, go pale, but he ignored it as a hot wave of shame and anger broke over him.

“Everything’s fine,” he ground out. He sensed Bård trying to get his attention, but he stared at the table top and did not look.

“Don’t give me that,” his mother said sternly. “Everyone can see you’ve been acting differently, lately. What’s going on?”

“Are you in trouble?” his father asked. “Is it money trouble? If that’s what it is, we can help you, you don’t have to—“

“ _No,_ it’s not money trouble. I’m not in trouble. I’m fine.”

“Vegard. You’re not fine. You don’t call home anymore, you barely said a word all the way from the airport, and when you got here, you went right upstairs and stayed up there by yourself!” His mother’s voice was still kind but there was an edge, and undercurrent to it. “It’s Christmas. Don’t you want to be with your family at Christmas? Is this what you’re going to do all season?”

_You should. They’re better off without you.”_

“N-no…” he mumbled, past the flush rising up his face. Had he really been that bad?

_You shouldn’t have come home. You’re upsetting everyone. Look what you’re doing. Everyone is tired of your shit._

“Vegard…” Bård trailed off, looking away.

“We’re just trying to help you,” his mother said. “We love you. We don’t want to see you like this.”

 _Like what?_ He almost retorted, but was wise enough to know that doing anything other than smiling or nodding would only result in prolonging the humiliation.

“Okay,” he said, forcing a smile onto his face. “I’ll be better. Did you say there were cookies? I’d love a cookie.”

_Be normal. Be happy. You’re on thin ice. Don’t ruin things for them, it’s not their fault you’re a piece of shit._

He took the cookie and bit into it and it tasted like ash.

~~~

Vegard was never so grateful for the impending arrival of guests than he was that night, when he managed to escape up to his room again, citing the need to change into something more appropriate for a party. His mother gave him a look of warning, but didn’t object as he climbed the stairs.

He knew he had to be more mindful of the time. They were watching him, judging him now, and he had to act as normal as possible. Don’t rock the boat. Don’t upset anyone. 

But he couldn’t fight the urge to just sit on his bed and stay very still as his thoughts rushed around him ever faster. 

 From downstairs he could hear Christmas carols, and his mother singing along at the top of her voice. The aroma of fresh-baked cookies and cake, as well as the roast for dinner, wafted upstairs. The house was full of the general buzz and excitement that only happens right before a party.

_I should be looking forward to this. I used to love Christmas._

There was an odd sort of timelessness about being back in his childhood bedroom. Everything was the same as how he’d left it when he’d moved out: the models on the desk, the books on the bookshelf, the posters of planes on the walls and sloped ceiling. It was a shrine to who he was, and he had never felt so out of place.

_I’ve changed. The person who lived in this room would hate the person I am now._

A soft knock at the door made him tense up. “I’m coming!” he called, scrambling to open his suitcase and dig through it.

“It’s me,” Bård said sofly, opening the door just a crack. “Can I come in?” he asked hesitantly, as if expecting a no.

Vegard nodded, stone-faced. Bård opened the door and quickly closed it behind him. He dropped down in the desk chair and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t know they were gonna do that to you.”

“I thought you said you didn’t tell them what happened.”

“I didn’t. Mama noticed…she said you seemed different. Down. I just said you’d been going through some stuff. I didn’t know they were going to make such a big deal of it. Really.”

“Well I guess I know what you all think of me now.”

“Vegard…”

“That I’m miserable, and awful to be around. I bring everyone down. I’m ruining Christmas for you all. I should never have come. You don’t deserve to be burdened down by me and my crap.” He didn’t know why he was being so open with Bård. 

“No. Vegard, no. Don’t talk that way.”

“Well it’s what you’re all thinking, isn’t it. You pretty much told me that.”

Bård was silent for a few minutes, and Vegard felt his heart sink, realizing that it was confirmation.

_You need to go now. Stop ruining everything for them._

_“_ I don’t know how to make you understand,” he said at last. “I don’t know how to get _through_ to you. But I meant it, what I said that night. Don’t leave me. Not like this.”

_Don’t believe him. He’s lying. He’s just lying to you._

“You’re better off without me,” Vegard said, looking down at his hands. “You’re more talented, more handsome, funnier, more personable. I’m holding you back. I need to just….fuck off. I need…I need…”

Before he could finish his sentence, Bård was over on the bed beside him, squeezing him tight. “You need _something_ ,” he breathed, “but I don’t know if you’ll ever accept it.” One more squeeze, and then he pulled back to look him in the eye. “If you leave me, in _any_ way, that’s it. I’m not going to keep going without you. I am not a solo act.”

It was that simple admission that finally broke him. Vegard felt tears well up and turned his head before Bård could see. Bård looked the other way, giving him privacy as he got himself under control. Finally, his little brother stood up.

“Come on. I think I heard the doorbell, and you know if you don’t come, Uncle Steinar _will_ come up here and forcibly drag you downstairs.”

Vegard laughed softly. “That won’t be necessary,” he said, and meant it.

 


	3. hearts can heal

It was with a feeling of trepidation that Vegard descended the stairs and went into the kitchen for breakfast the next morning. The party had gone well, or so he’d thought, and he’d stayed awake until the early hours of the morning, finally lulled to sleep by the multiple glasses of wine he’d consumed at the party and the utter exhaustion that only comes after hours of knowing that your every move and every word is being watched and judged. 

That wasn’t _new_ to him, of course, being a celebrity. He just wasn’t used to it being his own family.

His mother was standing in front of the stove when he came into the kitchen; Bård was already seated at the table, a pile of pancakes in front of him. She beamed as she saw her eldest come into the room, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Come on, honey, sit down,” she said. “I’ve made your favourite. Cinnamon pancakes.”

Vegard smiled, took the plate his mother handed him, and sat down at the table. He spread butter over the top of the admittedly delicious-smelling stack, then took a bite.

_Look how good you’re being. Let’s see them try to find something wrong._

Across from him, Bård caught his eye and raised his eyebrow. Vegard nodded back.

“These are fantastic,” he said, his voice sounding overly-loud to his own ears. “Thank you, Mama.”

_You’re good. You’re good. You’re normal. Everything’s normal._

They ate in silence for a little bit, until breakfast was finished and the plates were empty. Bård hopped up to collect them and put them in the sink.

_You should have done that. Don’t be so lazy. You have to be good. You have to be better._

He wasn’t aware of the significant look that passed between Bård and his mother. But the door to the kitchen shut softly, and suddenly Bård was gone and it was just him and his mother. She sat down across from him, a pensive look on her face

_Shit, what did I do? I came downstairs, I ate the food…was it something at the party? Did I fuck up there?_

For half a minute, he fought the urge to get up and run. Run away, back to Oslo, where he wouldn’t be bothering anyone anymore.

Finally his mother spoke.

“You may not remember this well, but when you were seven years old, I got cross with you about something. I don’t remember what it was, and it’s not important. I sent you to your room until supper time. 

“When supper time came, I called you from your room, and you didn’t come. I called you and called you, until finally I went up there to see why you weren’t coming.”

Vegard bowed his head. He did remember this.

“I found you in your room. All the lights were on, and you were lying on your bed with a pillow on your face. I asked you what you were doing, and you said you wanted to die.”

Now it was his mother’s turn to bow her head. “I dismissed it. I thought you’d simply been reading too many books again. You were always reading books, you’ve always been so smart…I thought it was just something you’d heard somewhere, and you couldn’t possibly know what it meant.”

“Later that year, I got a call from your teacher. She said that you seemed so sad all the time, that she was worried about you. She suggested a visit with the school psychiatrist. But I…I couldn’t admit that something might be wrong with my baby, and we were moving to Africa soon, and…” she shook her head. “It was wrong.”

“I had always meant to follow up, but one year turned into four, and by the time we came home, you were different. You seemed happier, more outgoing. You had friends and interests and hobbies. I thought that…that maybe that teacher was wrong. But she wasn’t, was she. You’d just learned to hide it. And we got so used to seeing you that way, we overlooked it. And then you moved out, and away to Oslo…it was like you became a different person. But you didn’t, did you. You didn’t change. We all just finally opened our eyes.”

She took both his hands in his, stroking her thumb over his fingers. 

“It isn’t too late,” his mother said at last. “I still have a lot of connections from work, and I made some inquiries - I _didn’t_ say why, don’t worry. I found some names and numbers for you.”

Vegard looked down. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

“If you choose not to, I’m not going to force you, and I’m not going to nag you. But at least think about it. I can’t pretend to know what goes on in your head, but I don’t think it’s anything very good. And it doesn’t have be that way. At least think about it.”

~~~

Bård resisted the urge to hover outside the kitchen door. As much as he wanted to know, he knew that what was going on in there was between Vegard and his mother, and there was no place for him there. Not just yet.

He forced himself to wait a few minutes more after his mother exited the kitchen. If Vegard was a blubbery, crying mess, he wanted to give him time to compose himself. Neither of them needed to be subjected to that.

Finally, he stood outside the kitchen door and drew a deep breath. Who knew what kind of condition his big brother would be in? He knocked softly, so he wouldn’t startle him, then gently pushed the door open.

Contrary to what he’d been half-expecting, Vegard wasn’t a blubbery mess. He was sitting at the kitchen table, a cup of tea in one hand, gazing out the window. In his other, he held a business card. Bård could only just make out the words. _Dr. Jan Kristiansand, Clinical Psychologist._

“So…you gonna do it?” There was no use beating around the bush. Not between them.

Vegard took another sip of his tea. “I…I don’t know…”

“You should.”

“It might change things, you know.”

Bård shrugged. “Then we’ll adapt. We always have.”

“It might change the dynamic between us.”

“It might, but…that’s not going to break us. It might even make us better.”

Vegard broke his gaze out the window to look at his brother. 

“That doesn’t matter so much, in the end,” Bård continued softly. “I don’t care about that. I care about _you_. And if that means that we have to change stuff, or even take a break, to…figure stuff out, then we’ll do it. You _can_ beat this. Just because it’s…because you’ve been this way for your whole life doesn’t mean it’s right…and it doesn’t mean it can’t change.”

Vegard looked away again, but Bård caught the faint sheen in his eyes.

“So…you gonna do it?”

“Yeah,” Vegard answered. “I think I might.”

 

 


End file.
